


The Sorrowful Wife

by Feeshies



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Infidelity, Pining, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26632525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feeshies/pseuds/Feeshies
Summary: As Amber begins taking a more active role in her husband's business, she realizes that the job may have unexpected perks.
Relationships: Amber/Abigail Remeltindtdrinc
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. The Australia Job

Seth took the Australia Job. Of course he did - why wouldn’t he? It was a great opportunity. Only an idiot would turn down something like that. An idiot who valued his life, but an idiot nonetheless. Amber remembered how he would prattle on about wanting to go into business with his younger brother (and more specifically, his highly lucrative band). So when some white guy in a suit said “you’re the new head of Dethklok Australia”, Seth didn’t give it a second thought.

Amber wished he did.

Not even a second thought. A third thought. Maybe a fourth. Even just the slightest moment of hesitation where he would think:

_ Hey, maybe I shouldn’t go into business with my brother who broke my nose at my wedding. _

__ _ Hey, maybe I should have a chat with my new wife before telling her that she will have to leave her friends and family, uproot her entire life, and move to another hemisphere. _

__ _ Hey, maybe said wife, who is 8 months pregnant, wouldn’t be thrilled about being on a 20 hour international flight. _

__ But no, the move was happening, not that Amber complained outright. Perhaps she was waiting for the day when Seth could accurately interpret her sighs and blank stares.

When her son was born a few weeks later, Amber wondered if this was a blessing in disguise. While Seth dealt with God knows what as head of Dethklok Australia, Amber had to spend her days taking care of a newborn. If she was back in Tomahawk, she might have felt tempted to go out on the town with her friends like she used to. But here in Australia, she had no friends. No job. No connections. Nothing but an admittedly beautiful estate, her social media feed, and a baby on her hip.

Seth must have noticed her ennui because he put her in charge of Dethklok Australia’s social media presence. It wasn’t the most demanding job, but it was certainly more than what was expected of her back in Tomahawk. For the longest time, her goal in life was to marry rich and spend the rest of her years as a pampered housewife.

It can be bittersweet when plans work out.

For the first few months, Amber never had to interact with anyone else involved with the band. All of the direct communication went through Seth. All Amber was expected to do was post updates and moderate comments. Oh, and dodge the occasional assassination attempt.

Yeah, that was another thing that he should have talked to her about.

Fortunately, Amber was never considered a valuable target, but her husband was. Amber’s first week in Australia ended with her cowering behind the kitchen counter and clutching her newborn son while security combed the estate for a suspected gunman. These attempts on their lives waned as Seth increased security. Amber could only hope that this job didn’t work like royal bloodlines. What if someone did successfully assassinate Seth and she was put in charge of Dethklok Australia in his place? She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t even care for death metal, she was always more of a new wave girl. She wasn’t about to get assassinated for a genre of music she couldn’t groove to. Besides, it wasn’t like she paid much attention to the business side of things. As the years passed and she found that remaining passive was the best way to engage.

Amber was sitting in the corner of the home office, tapping away on her phone while Seth was in a video conference with the white guy in the suit who gave him the job in the first place. As part of the crew herself, she could have taken part, but she didn’t see the point. It was all just the boring corpo-babble she spent her entire life trying to avoid.

However, one sentence from Suit Guy did catch her attention.

“...we’ll need you and your team here at Mordhaus.”

At first, Amber felt a twinge of excitement when she believed that she would have the entire house to herself. Then she realized that by “your team”, that also included her.  Seth confirmed that as such over dinner that evening.

“Babe, it’s just three weeks,” Seth said between bites of pasta. “It will be over before you know it.”

“But how are we supposed to get a sitter in such short notice?”

Seth shrugged,

“Let’s bring the kid with us. He’ll have to learn the business eventually.”

“Bring our son…” Amber stretched her words out. “...to a place called  _ Mordhaus _ .”

Seth gestured dismissively with his fork.

“All that  _ brutal _ bullshit is just for show. Metal dudes are like that, trust me. My baby brother? Don’t let him fool you. I grew up with him. Total softie. Not as tough as his band persona would have you believe.”

“Your brother who almost caused you to bleed to death at our wedding?”

Seth cleared his throat,

“I already made the arrangements with Charlie. We’ll figure it out.”

Amber stared at the baby monitor resting on the kitchen table which was displaying a video feed of her son sleeping in his room. He looked so calm and peaceful that she could have mistaken the footage for a static image. Through no intentions of his own, the child was part of death metal royalty. She could relate.

Amber sighed and stood up.

“I’ll start packing.”


	2. Heartbeats

Seth left for Mordhaus a few days before, just to make sure everything was situated. Amber tried to use that extra time to find a babysitter for Nick, but (shockingly) people weren’t clamoring to spend 3 weeks taking care of a toddler and dodging assassination attempts - especially on such short notice.

And so, Amber found herself wandering through the vast halls of Mordhaus with a wriggling toddler in her arms.

Her first priority was finding the room they were staying in so she could put the kid to bed and check her phone. Unfortunately, the halls of Mordhaus felt like a winding labyrinth of gloomy architecture. Amber gently lowered her son’s head against her shoulder to shield his eyes from Mordhouse’s more gruesome artwork. She certainly wasn’t going to ask the workers for directions. The faceless black hoods they wore only made her feel more uneasy.

After she was sure that she passed the same iron gargoyle for the fifth time, Amber stopped when she noticed someone walking down the hallway as well - someone who wasn’t wearing a hood. The man was tall and muscular with long brown hair and the way he wandered through the hall made him look as aimless as she felt. She recognized him as one of the band members, but she couldn’t say which one. The only member she could identify by name was her brother in law, Pickles. Maybe this was something she needed to work on, but it hadn’t gotten in the way of her job so far.

“Excuse me,” she called out.

The man stopped, at first appearing to not know for certain if she was talking to him or not.

Amber walked over to him and started talking before he had a chance to say anything.

“I’m lost. Can you tell me where the guest rooms are?”

The man frowned, the corners of his peculiar Fu Manchu-style mustache drooping downwards.

“Guest room?”

“Yes, I’m here on behalf of Dethklok Australia. My husband should have arrived a few days ago.”

The man stared at her blankly.

“Seth,” Amber clarified. “Pickles’ brother.”

A flash of recognition sparked in his eyes.

“Now I remembers! He got his face beat off by Pickle, yes?”

Amber cringed, both at the unpleasant memory, and how the man chose to phrase it.

“Yes, that’s him. My darling husband.”

The man nodded.

“I seen him here yesterday. But I don’t knows where he ams stayings in.” He sagged his shoulders. “Sorries.”

“It’s fine, I can find it on my own.” Amber sighed. “By the way, is this place childproofed?”

The man nodded,

“The doors are very hard to opens and the securities are very tough. No kids will ever gets in!”

“No, I mean…” Amber shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll just spend the next three weeks on constant alert.”

The man nodded again, clearly not knowing what kind of response she wanted.

When Nick began crying and flailing in her arms, Amber took that as an excuse to leave the conversation. She bounced him up and down and rubbed gentle circles into his back to calm him down, all while trying to ignore the stares from the hooded crew members.

She did find her quarters eventually. The door was partially obscured by one of the stone staircases, so it wasn’t an obvious find. The room was certainly more spacious and better-decorated than her old room back in Tomahawk. However, she still couldn’t look past the aesthetic. There were no windows, just floor to ceiling stone walls decorated with gargoyles, various types of weaponry, and disturbing paintings that made the work of Hieronymus Bosch look like Lisa Frank. She made sure to keep Nick’s head lowered.

Seth had been there already - she could tell. The sheets on the king-size canopy bed were slightly unmade and his empty suitcase was shoved in one corner of the room. When Amber focused, she could smell traces of his cologne. It felt like coming home, almost. A darker, more macabre home.

Another door to the side led to a nursery and Amber cringed when she imagined what a Mordhaus nursery would look like. But to her relief, the nursery was the most normal-looking room she had seen that day. Still much darker than she would have liked, but there were no weapons, no gorey paintings, and the furniture looked like it could have been bought at a normal store rather than forged in the depths of Hell.

All Amber wanted to do was take a shower and wash all of the travel-grime off of her, but as she laid Nick down in the crib, she found that she couldn’t walk away. She couldn’t just leave him alone in a place like this. She leaned against the top of the crib as she stared down at him. His tiny hands grasping at nothing, his wispy hair that could never decide to be brown or red, the light dusting of freckles that were already starting to form across his nose. There was no doubt about it: he was Seth’s son. She traced one finger across his cheek, the skin was so soft it felt fragile. When he looked up at her with those big, watery eyes, suddenly her world felt stable again.

There was a knock at the door and Amber stood up straight. She wasn’t ready to leave Nick alone, but she also didn’t want to pick him up after he finally got comfortable.

“Come in,” she called.

One of the hooded workers stepped into the nursery. She bowed slightly when she saw Amber, who didn’t know whether to feel flattered or perturbed.

“I was told to watch over your child while you attend to your duties.” Her voice was strangely warm, despite the off-putting hood covering her face.

Amber glanced back and forth between her son and the worker.

“You don’t have to…” What did she think would happen? Was she supposed to bring her son with her to her meetings? Have her toddler on her knee while listening to death metal recordings? But still, she wasn’t about to leave him alone with a faceless stranger.

The worker seemed to sense her hesitation.

“I can assure you that I was only assigned to this job because I am the most qualified. I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of your child.”

“That’s very kind, but--”

“Do not be mistaken: I will put my life on the line for him.”

“You don’t-”

“And I’m CPR certified.”

“Listen,” Amber rubbed her forehead. “I appreciate this a lot, I really do. But I’d feel more comfortable having him with me for now.”

The worker nodded,

“I will never get in the way of a mother’s instincts. Very well, I respect your wishes.”

“Thank you.”

“But I should tell you that Mr. Offdensen would like to speak to you.”

Right, Charles Offdensen. The suit guy who helped get her into this mess to begin with.

“Guess I’ll get to that.” She scooped Nick up in her arms.

“Best of luck to you.” The worker stood next to the crib as Amber left. “I will stay here and make sure your child’s room remains safe.”

“Uh,” Amber hesitated again. “You do that.”

* * *

Perhaps she was growing accustomed to the madness of Mordhaus’ interior design, because it didn’t take her as long to find Offdensen’s office. She adjusted Nick in her arms so she could knock on the door, but stopped when she heard a familiar voice yelling from inside. The door was thick enough that she couldn’t make out the words, but she recognized the sound of Midwestern rage. Curiosity got the better of her and she slowly opened the door.

The first thing that stood out to Amber was how well-lit the office was compared to the rest of the fortress. After spending the entire day wandering through Mordhaus, it was almost off putting to stand in a normal-looking office for a change. Only the exposed stone walls and the jagged mountains visible through the window reminded her where she was. 

Sure enough, there was her dear brother-in law, Pickles, pounding his fists on a glossy mahogany desk. Sitting behind the desk was Charles Offdensen, who was rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

“All I’m sayin’ is that you coulda warned me!”

“Yes, Pickles, I know.” Offdensen’s voice was quiet, as if he gave up on legitimately arguing with him a while ago.

“Coulda warned me that my  _ douchebag _ brother-”

“I did tell you that we would be working with Dethklok Australia…”

“-would be stayin’ here, in  _ my _ house, where  _ I _ live-”

“Well, it’s not  _ your _ house.”

“You can’t just drop this on me!”

Amber decided that this probably wasn’t the best environment for her toddler and turned to leave. Unfortunately, the creak from the door was a lot louder than she expected.

Both Pickles and Offdensen locked eyes on her. Pickles’ face was nearly the same color as his dreads.

“I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Amber.”

“Pickles.” She spoke coolly.

Pickles cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder at Offdensen.

“I can come back later.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Pickles gave Amber a wide berth as he made his way to the door, possibly so he could avoid eye contact with her. Maybe there would be a better opportunity for her to introduce him to his nephew in the future.

The door shut behind him and Offdensen cleared his throat.

“Amber, it’s good to finally meet you in person.” His eyes drifted to Nick. “And I see you brought your son with you.”

Nick began squirming in her arms so she placed a firm but gentle hand on his back, praying that he wouldn’t start crying again.

“I hope this won’t be a problem.”

Offdensen was silent for a moment, as if carefully piecing his words together.

“I just worry that this may not be the most...appropriate place for a child.”

“He won’t get in the way, I promise.”

“You know, we have staff on hand who are qualified to look after him.”

“I’d feel more comfortable keeping an eye on him myself for now.”

Offdensen didn’t look any more comfortable, but he didn’t press further.

“I just need you to fill out some paperwork before you start your work on behalf of Dethklok Australia.”

Offdensen slid Amber a stack of papers across the desk. Amber leaned in closer to inspect them, but she could feel her eyes glaze over after only a few seconds of reading over the legalese.

“It’s an NDA,” Offdensen explained, saving her from having to read through the entire contract. “As head of Dethklok Australia’s social media presence, we can’t have you posting anything we don’t want the public to have access to. This includes leaking unreleased songs, album content, or releasing any sensitive information about the band members or crew. We did not bring you on as a paparazzo.”

“I understand.” Amber adjusted Nick in her arms so she could sign the agreement. “Should he sign too?”

“Well, unless your child is able to speak or post information online, I don’t think it’s necessary-” He paused. “Oh, you were joking. No, your son doesn’t need to sign an NDA.”

Amber finished signing and slid the paperwork back to Offdensen, who gave them another glance-over before filing them away.

“Excellent, that’s all I needed from you. To start, I’d recommend you talk to our producer first. I’d like to smooth things out with Pickles before I have you working with the actual band.”

“Okay,” Amber stood up.

“And I’d  _ really  _ recommend that you let our staff take care of your child while you’re in the recording studio.”

Amber stared down at Nick’s face before turning her attention back to Offdensen. The CFO did seem like a normal guy. She certainly trusted someone like him with her toddler over some stranger in an executioner’s hood.

“Could I leave him here in your office? Just for a few minutes.”

Offdensen looked like she just asked him to hold onto a live grenade.

“No! I mean, I couldn’t. You’ve seen the kind of personalities I have to deal with. No place for a child.”

Amber sighed. He did have a point.

“Okay then, I’ll see what I can do.” She turned to leave. “Uh, see you around.”

Offdensen seemed to visibly relax when he knew she was taking the child out of his office.

“Good day.”

* * *

When Amber returned to her room, the hooded caretaker from before was still standing guard.

“It’s good you’ve returned unharmed.”

Amber let a shaky breath escape through her teeth. Her need to keep Nick in her line of sight at all times was slowly becoming overpowered by her need to put her arms down.

“I need to get myself ready for a meeting in the recording studio.” Amber paused as she looked back down at Nick’s face. “In the meantime, would you mind watching-”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” the worker held out her arms to receive the child. “It would be my honor.”

Amber hesitated again. This would be the first time in two years that she allowed someone other than her or Seth to watch over Nick. One of the perks of having such a low-stakes job was that she could work without him leaving her sight. She didn’t even know if Nick was the kind of child who gets separation anxiety, because she never had an opportunity to find out before now.

But her arms were still  _ really _ sore.

She took a deep breath before handing Nick over to the worker, her sore arms suddenly feeling cold.

“I will guard him with my life,” the caretaker reassured her.

* * *

All of her anxieties over Nick seemed to seep away as she stepped into the shower. The bathroom wasn’t as macabre as she feared either. She was imagining a shower shaped like an iron maiden, human skeletons chained to the walls, toilet seats covered in spikes. But instead, it looked like the bathroom of a high-end gothic resort. The only off-putting element was the metal showerhead, which was shaped like a nude, buxom woman spewing water out of her mouth, but Amber found that more tacky than outright disturbing.

After drying off (and peeking into the nursery to make sure Nick wasn’t in danger), Amber got dressed for her first day on the job. She wondered if the cream-colored sweater dress was too bright for Mordhaus’s aesthetic, but she always looked better in pastels so she decided not to worry about it. What she did choose to worry about was her choice in footwear. After spending most of the day wandering around Mordhaus, she regretted not packing something with a shorter heel. She always wore heels, even up until the final months of her pregnancy, but imagining walking up and down Mordhaus’ staircases made her pray for some ballet flats.

She chose some ankle boots with a modest 3 inch heel, tied her dark brown hair back into a tight knot, and fixed her makeup. She checked on the nursery one last time before grabbing her bag and starting her trek down to the recording studio.

* * *

Amber managed to make her way down to the recording studio with only minor foot pain. It took awhile for her to convince the guards posted outside that she was supposed to be there, but eventually they let her inside. The recording studio had an odd red glow about it and the air was cold and musty like a basement’s, even though Amber was sure she wasn’t underground. In front of a rather plush-looking sofa was a massive horseshoe-shaped mixing console, the red lights blinking and flashing rhythmically. The booth was empty and the only other person in the studio was a woman sitting at the console.

Since she had headphones on, Amber wasn’t sure how to make her presence known. So she stood at the door, waiting for an opportune time. When the woman looked up and noticed Amber’s reflection in the booth window, she jumped in surprise and pulled her headphones off.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Amber slowly made her way further into the studio. “My name’s Amber. I’m here with Dethklok Australia.”

“Don’t worry about it. Should have been paying attention.” The producer turned around in her chair and held out her hand. “Abigail Remeltindtdrinc.”

Amber stepped closer so she could accept the handshake. The blinking lights from the console danced across Abigail’s brown skin. Her dark curly hair fell past her shoulders, the top of which was slightly dented from the headphones she was wearing. The monotony of her gray pantsuit was broken up by a gleaming emerald pendant she wore around her neck, which matched the same shade of green as her eyes.

She realized that she had been shaking her hand for much longer than what was probably acceptable and she quickly returned her hand back to her side.

“I promise I won’t get in the way,” Amber fumbled with the bag slung over her shoulder. “Just need to get some photos for Dethklok Australia.”

“You’re not in the way, I’m just doing minor tweaks.” Abigail picked the headphones back up off of the console and placed them around the back of her neck. “So do you work with Pickles’ brother - Seth?”

Amber snorted,

“Know him? I married him.”

A look of realization dawned on Abigail's face.

“Oh, that’s right. I’m so sorry I didn’t make the connection earlier.”

“You’re good, don’t worry about it.”

As Amber pulled her camera out of her bag, she wished that Abigail would return to her job. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to keep up the conversation, but she figured that Abigail just felt obligated to talk to her.

“So,” Abigail looked up from the console. “Did you listen to Dethklok before going into the business?”

“Not really.” Amber answered without thinking as she fiddled with her camera’s settings. “Not a death metal fan. Just sounds like noise to me.”

Amber froze when she realized she said that to a death metal producer. Before she could stammer out an apology, Abigail laughed and waved her closer. Amber rolled out another chair from underneath the console and scooted down next to her.

“I used to feel the same way when I was first studying music. But a trained ear can find the story within the noise. Here.”

Abigail unplugged her headphones and gradually turned up one of the dials. Slowly, the sound of deep, rhythmic notes began to fill the air. The sound wasn’t terribly loud, but Amber could feel them resonate throughout her body.

“This is the bass, which is one of the key components in establishing the rhythm and foundation of a song. At a surface-level listen, you might not always  _ hear  _ it, but you can  _ feel  _ its absence. It’s like...the heartbeat of the song.”

Abigail turned up another dial and the bassline was joined by the recognizable sound of Pickles’ drumming.

“The drums are also essential when it comes to establishing the rhythm and working to maintain this foundation. If the bass is like the heartbeat, the drums are like the backbone, I suppose.”

Another dial, and this time the sound of a blaring electric guitar joined the other two instruments.

“Lead guitar, obviously. But then we also have,”

Abigail turned up another dial and a second electric guitar came through. Even though the notes being played were different, Amber was starting to notice the way the two instruments played off of each other.”

“They’re harmonizing,” she said without thinking.

Abigail smiled,

“Rhythm guitar. It helps to hold all of the other instruments together as well as acting as a sort of ‘call and response’ with the lead guitar. Think of it as two voices having a conversation.” Abigail frowned. “I’m mixing my metaphors. Anyway, finally we have the vocals.”

She turned up the last dial and the deep, primal voice of the lead singer came powering through the speakers. Amber still couldn’t make out the lyrics, but she found that she could understand the music. She noticed how the instruments worked off of each other, but she also noticed them form a more holistic lens. Even though she couldn’t see herself listening to it in her off time, she found that she had a deeper understanding of this tiny snippet of a song than all of her favorite songs combined.

When Abigail turned off the music, the recording studio suddenly felt too quiet and Amber felt like she was hyper aware of all of the sounds left in the room. Her heart pounding in her chest, the blood roaring in her ears, the sound of Abigail’s fingers tapping against the console.

“You signed an NDA, right?”

It took Amber a second to realize she asked her a question.

“Yes, just before I came down here.”

“Okay, good. I mean, it’s not like I don’t trust you, I just need to be sure.”

“This was good, though.” Amber stared down at the camera in her lap. “I feel like I finally get it, like the way it all goes together.”

Abigail chuckled,

“I hope so. It’s my job to make sure it all goes together, after all. I’ve been a producer for many different bands across all genres, and one of my core duties is finding that unifying thread between all of the instruments involved. In my eyes, that’s what separates the noise from the music.” Abigail looked back at Amber. “Is this for an interview or something? You don’t have a notepad.”

“Oh, uh, this isn’t an interview.” Her hands tightened around the camera strap. “I’m just here to take some photos for the website.”

Abigail’s face flushed.

“Oh no, I just made you sit through that whole ramble for nothing? I am so sorry.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Amber shrugged. “I liked listening to it. I feel like I have a better understanding of the sound because of you.”

“You’re not just saying that to humor me?”

Abigail’s lips twitched into a style. The purple shade of her lipstick contrasted nicely with her striking green eyes. Amber never had the courage to try bright colors like that.

Amber cleared her throat.

“Of course not.”

“I’m just teasing you.” Abigail sat back in her chair. “I suppose I should let you get to work then.”

“Right.” Amber secured the camera strap around her neck and stood up.

“How should I pose?” Abigail kept moving around in her seat, trying out different arm positions.

“You can keep working. I just need these photos as proof that the new album is being worked on so the fans can be satisfied for now.”

“Got it,” Abigail pulled the headphones back over her ears. “But I should warn you, I’ve been told I have major resting bitch face.”

“All the best women do. And if it looks bad, I can fix it in Photoshop.”

Abigail laughed,

“Oh, thanks.”

The studio became oddly silent again as Abigail went back to work, only occasionally broken by the snapping of Amber’s camera. When Amber focused, she could notice the sound of Abigail faintly humming along to whatever was playing through her headphones. There was something oddly intimate about that. Amber’s heart pounded harder in her chest.

Abigail lowered her head, causing a few strands of her curly hair to fall forward and obscure her face. Without thinking, Amber reached forward and pushed her hair out of the way. Abigail paused the track and smirked, moving her headphones off of one ear.

“Everything okay?”

“Um,” The warmth Amber was feeling before was replaced with icy horror. “Sorry, your hair was covering your face.”

Fortunately, Abigail didn’t seem as horrified as Amber felt.

“Here.” She unwound a hair tie from around her wrist and pulled her hair back in a loose bun. “How’s this?”

Amber opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She knew girls who spent hundreds of dollars worth of products to pull off the “intentionally messy” style that Abigail managed in five seconds. Without her hair in the way, she could see the graceful slope of her jaw down to her neck. The stray strands of hair that escaped the hair tie framed her face so perfectly that Amber had to believe it was intentional. Was she jealous? Amber had been jealous of beautiful women before, but it never felt like this. She didn’t feel bitter, she felt...giddy. Like being in Abigail’s presence meant she was part of something bigger.

“That’s better.” Amber responded when she managed to regain control of her thoughts.

Realistically, she only needed a couple shots for the website, but Amber found herself continuously taking pictures. She kept finding new angles, new ways the lights played across her features, new little smiles and movements of her hands across the dials. But at some point, she got a hold of herself and realized it was time to call it a day.

“I think I have all I need.” She looked back down at the camera. “Thank you for your time.”

Abigail somehow heard her through the death metal blasting through her headphones.

“We should get some pictures of you up there too, right?”

Amber would have dropped the camera if it weren’t for the strap around her neck.

“What? Why?”

“You’re part of the team, right?”

“Yes, technically, but…” Amber shifted back and forth on her heels. “I didn’t earn this position. I got it through marriage.”

“And Seth got it through birth.”

“I know, but…” Amber paused as she tried to find words for the abstract feeling that had been gnawing at her ever since she moved to Australia. “If people find out that I didn’t get the job legitimately...I don’t know. You know what they’d assume.”

Abigail sighed sympathetically.

“I get it, okay? But take it from someone who did get the job ‘legitimately’, people will assume the exact same shit about you.” She held out her hand for the camera. “And you should have some photos of yourself on your website.”

Amber considered it for a moment, then smiled and removed the camera strap from around her neck.

“Alright, but just a couple.” Amber handed the camera to Abigail, silently praying that she wouldn’t notice how many photos she took of her. She then sat back down in the chair, back straight, chest forward, hands folded neatly against the console. She kept her gaze focused on the far wall. A tiny instinct in the back of her mind told her that she wouldn’t be able to keep a neutral face if she looked at Amber.

“There we go…” The shutter went off a couple times, all while Amber struggled to keep her face frozen in place. “You’re really photogenic, you know that?”

The mask of neutrality broke and Amber laughed, the warmth returning to her face. Then she heard the camera go off again.

“I wanted to get a more candid one of you,” Abigail explained as she held the camera back to her. “And I figured that making you laugh would be the best way to get it.”

“Ah,” Amber didn’t know how to describe how she felt. Disappointed?

“Don’t worry, you actually are really photogenic,” she pointed back at the camera. “That last picture is proof.”

“I’ll trust your judgement.” Amber stood back up and placed the camera back into her bag. “Thank you for your time, Abigail.”

Abigail nodded,

“I’ll see you around.”

Amber turned to leave, but stopped halfway to the door.

“You know,” she began slowly. “I might have to come back later. In case the photos I took don’t work out.”

Abigail smiled,

“Well, it looks like you have a large selection to pick from already.”

Amber’s face flushed,

“I…”

“Relax, it’s fine. If you want to hang out again, I’d like that. Honestly, it has been refreshing to talk to another woman who has a face.”

“It’s been refreshing to talk to...anyone.”

Abigail laughed,

“It was really nice to meet you, Amber.”

* * *

Amber was thankful that she finally got the hang of navigating her way through Mordhaus, because she found it impossible to keep her mind focused. When she got back to her room, she opened the door and froze when she heard a familiar voice.

“Amber, babe? ‘s that you?”

Seth, her husband, the man to whom she was married, the father of her child, was lounging back on the bed in his sharp white suit. 

“How’s Nick?” Amber asked as she stepped inside.

“He’s fine. Just takin’ a nap right now.”

Amber ducked into the nursery, and sure enough Nick was sound asleep in his crib - completely unharmed. He looked so peaceful that she didn’t want to disturb him. She let out a sigh of relief and returned to the bedroom.

Seth gave her a lopsided grin and gestured for her to join him, but Amber just set her bag down on a nearby chair.

“Aw, come on. You’re not mad at me, are you? I meant to greet you earlier, but I was in the hot tub.”

“It’s fine, I’m not mad.” She found it easier to focus her gaze on the wall. “I had to do some work for the site anyway.”

“Oh, really?” Seth flopped over onto his side. “Like what?”

“Just took some photos in the recording studio. Chatted a bit with the producer.”

“Ah, you met the producer. That Abbi chick, right?”

“Abigail, yes.” Amber twisted her fingers together. “What...what do you think about her?”

She heard Seth laugh.

“Aw, you’re cute when you’re jealous. Relax, she’s not my type.”

“What’s not what I-” Amber stopped and shook her head. What did she mean anyway?

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re here ‘cuz I wanted to run some ideas by you. So you know how I’m always the numbers guy, right? The brains behind the operation? Well, I feel like I’m learning to access my creative side.”

“Uh huh.” Amber pulled her phone out and waited for a text she knew would never come.

“And so I’m thinkin’, Dethklok Australia’s got the  _ Dethklok _ part down, right? But what about the  _ Australia _ part? You know what Australia has? That’s right: the most brutal animals on earth. We can use that.”

“How?”

“Glad you asked!” Seth jumped up off the bed, barely noticing that Amber was only half paying attention. “Remember that time we were at the beach and I picked up that octopus because it looked fuckin’ sick, but then the life guard had to go all ‘don’t touch that, it’s a blue-ringed octopus, it will kill you, blah blah blah’, so I called him a douchebag and threw it at his fuckin’ face and he fuckin’ died?”

“Yes, I remember that.”

“So here’s my plan: during my baby brother’s drum solo, we just dump a shit-ton of those little fuckers onto the crowd. It would be fuckin’ sick! My brother’s always loved octopuses for some reason so it would be perfect.”

“Isn’t it octopi?”

“No,  _ Latin _ , words end in  _ i _ , but ‘octopus’ is Greek. But both versions have been used for so long that they’re both right, I guess.” Seth shrugged. “Another lifeguard told me that while we were removing the other one’s body.”

“So you want to dump a bunch of octo...puses onto the crowd?”

Seth shot Amber a finger gun.

“Always supporting my ideas. ‘s why I married you.”

* * *

Amber couldn’t sleep. She would have liked to blame the time zone difference, but Seth was fast asleep next to her. She plugged her camera’s SD card into the laptop resting on top of her thighs. Might as well get some work done. It was daytime in Australia anyway - an optimal time to post some new content.

She flipped through the numerous photos of Abigail. Most of them were identical, but she could notice the subtle differences. There were some photos where she swore she was glancing back at her. At first, she didn’t want to think anything of it. Of course she would be looking at her, it wasn’t like she was used to working while someone was taking photos of her. But there was something about her look that Amber couldn’t stop thinking about. She thought about how people talked about the Mona Lisa, how the painting’s eyes and knowing smirk seemed to follow them. Amber never felt that about the Mona Lisa, but she felt that same sensation when she looked at Abigail. It did feel like her eyes were following her, but this didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. Rather, she felt seen. Appreciated.

Amber flipped too far through the Abigail pictures and ended up at the photos of herself. The first one looked like a fairly normal portrait. Stoic face, stern but gentle eyes, rigid pose. She could see it on the inside sleeve of a book cover, or possibly in her obituary.

Then she flipped to the candid photo.

The atmosphere was completely different. The way her head tilted back in laughter, the slight blur of her hand as she held it against her chest, the way glowed the way people told her she would when she was pregnant but never did. She looked alive - vibrant.

Without thinking, she minized the window and stared at the wedding photo of her and Seth she kept as her wallpaper. She was smiling in that photo too, but it was different. The smile was colder, more staged. She knew the logical reason behind this. That was the 500th photo of her that was taken that day. She was exhausted in that photo. Not to mention, eight months pregnant. But the second the comparison crossed her mind, she couldn’t shake it.

Amber snapped the laptop shut and glanced over at Seth’s sleeping form. She took a shaky breath and eased her way out of bed.

The nursery was dark and quiet. She slowly made her way over to the crib and dangled her arm over the edge, brushing her hand against Nick’s face. He stirred and looked up at her with those same big eyes. She didn’t know why it was comforting to see that he still looked the same from earlier that day. For some reason, she felt like everything had changed since the last time she saw him.

She made soft shushing sounds as she scooped him up in her arms. He took to her touch like it was the most natural thing in the world. She sat down on a nearby rocking chair and rubbed soft circles on his back. 

When she closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, she could hear her heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even though the title comes from a nick cave song, that wasn't the inspiration for seth and amber's son.
> 
> he was named after the lead singer of 311, which was heymurphy (lampmeeting on tumblr)'s idea.


End file.
